There’s a tear’s shard twisting in the foundation of my eye.
A wedge to keep the mourning flowing
Dislodged or dislocated its point reorientation to its station is unrelenting.
Its axis fixed on my blunted emotions.
I could see this situation in a foretelling based within cold facts.
I memorized all my heart reactions
But splinters dig deep with each motion.
They twist deeper with a flashed memory notion.
And No, time being what it is doesn’t make a passing over easy.
Time only numbs the pain you are receiving.
Until the day the shard has been flushed away through inundation.
Flash floods of salty tears you are releasing.
Then all is left is sweet love once given
Tucked into reverberated memorial cell, a safe keeping.
A tap, a click away from soaring retelling
Of the bonds, the love you shared from its beginnings.
My writing is typically written while I'm on a treadmill, so I call myself "the treadmill poet!" Born in West Chester Pa in 1960 I have been inspired to begin writing again through my interactions with two people I care deeply about that are experiencing the torrents of mental illness.